


One Call Away

by ClockworkCaly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24485920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkCaly/pseuds/ClockworkCaly
Summary: In a world where Hunters are aware of the wizarding world, some distrust those born with magic as much as the witches made from human sacrifice and demon deals, while others take advantage of their gifts, and some see them as allies. Two years ago, Dean was one of the first type, until he met and teamed up with Hermione Granger. Now, with his father missing, he has to balance his relationship with a (good) witch, reestablish his bond with his brother, find his father, and when he does -- keep that father from shooting his girl.It's a good thing he can charge his phone in the Impala.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Dean Winchester, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter
Comments: 43
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester checked his phone again as he left New Orleans. There had been no word from his father for longer than was usual, but Dean knew better than anyone how cases could go. He had just spent longer than he had anticipated in New Orleans. Running through his contacts, he hit one of the more important numbers, one important enough _not_ to be on speed dial and  _ not _ to have the person’s actual name attached to it. 

“Dean?” A sleepy, British voice answered.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Dean answered, smiling despite himself. “Voodoo case took longer than expected. Heading home now.”

“What was it?” The feminine voice on the other side of the line asked. 

“Teenagers dabbling, wanting to be tough, mixed with some angry loa.” Dean answered. “If they had any real skills, it might have been a problem.”

“Took longer than normal for no skills.” The voice teased. “Don’t drive straight through.” She advised. “It’s a long stretch, get some rest in between.”

Dean groaned, keeping his eyes on the road even as he threw his head back into the headrest. “I rest better with you.”

“I know, I rest better when we’re together too.” The voice replied. “But I’ll see you in two days?” 

“Thirty hours, if I stop like you want me too.” Dean replied with a sigh. “You up to anything?”

“Recon for a possible werewolf in Glacier Bay, but it’s all distance enough. I’ll be home.” 

“Good, I’ll see you then, Hermione.”

“Let me know if John finally gets in touch.”

“I will. Get some sleep. I’ll check in when I cross state lines.”

* * *

Okay, so it was more like twenty-four than thirty hours, since Dean chose to take a nap at a truck stop instead of getting a motel, and a drive-thru instead of taking the time to actually stop and eat somewhere, but why not? It was _still_ after midnight when he pulled up to the perfectly normal looking house in a perfectly normal looking small town. He knew better, of course, but it was as close to the apple-pie life as Dean Winchester was ever going to get. It even had the picket fence. 

The house was more  _ home base _ than  _ home _ , with a panic room, fully stocked armoury, a library just for magical, occult, and supernatural texts, and a detainment room, all hidden away with magic from prying eyes, amongst the completely normal office, living room, kitchen, dining room, and bedrooms. Sometimes, though, he liked to pretend, not that he’d ever admit it. He pulled the Impala into the normal looking garage, and let out a sigh. 

Leaving his duffel in the car, he ran a hand through his hair and headed to the door into the house. He managed to open it and step inside, before he felt something at his throat. “Hi honey, I’m home.” He joked, looking sideways at the curly-haired woman with a wand at his throat. That was another reason he could never have the stereotypical American dream, his father was an old-school hunter who believed trueborn witches were just as bad as their hellborn counterparts. He’d think Dean was under the influence of a love potion and shoot his girlfriend with extreme prejudice.

“And what sort of time do you call this?” The British witch asked, annoyed. “I thought you were going to call when you crossed the state line.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you.” He turned as she lowered her wand, taking hold of her hips and pulling her close. 

“You know that’s a good way to get yourself hexed.” Hermione scolded, despite the way her breath hitched. 

“What can I say?” Dean said with a smirk, falling into the old joke as he tilted up her chin. “I like to live dangerously.” He lowered his head to kiss her deeply.

* * *

“Hey Dean.”

Dean wheeled himself out from under the Impala at the sound of his neighbor’s voice. “Hey Curtis.” 

The man grinned at him. “You back for a while or you headed right back out?” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. Most of his neighbors believed he was a travelling specialty mechanic who made the big bucks, working on classic cars, big rigs, and the like. “Nothing planned, but you know how that goes.” He said lightly. “Why?”

“Michelle’s planning a barbecue on Friday.” Curtis answered. “You and Hermione up for it?” 

Dean resisted the urge to grimace. The full moon was weeks away, which meant they  _ would _ probably be free. “You know how hard it is for us to plan anything, but maybe. Have her talk to Hermione.” He wiped off his hands on a towel. “How’s everything otherwise around here?”Annoying he could sometimes be, but Curtis _always_ knew all the gossip around town. 

“Same old, same old. The school board is fighting over football and town council is still arguing about a bike path.” Curtis replied, shaking his head, “Hey, could you change the belts on my Ranger? I could take it down to Morty at the garage but he always charges me an arm and a leg.”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, okay, just don’t tell Morty. He hates me enough already.”

“He’s just jealous you married that sweet thing, Wilkins.” Curtis said with a laugh. “He doesn’t understand how you manage to keep her, with you two both travelling so much.”

“Tell you the truth, Curtis, I don’t know how I manage it.” Dean answered, honestly. Hermione was the only trueborn witch he knew who also hunted his kind of supernatural monsters. He kept expecting her to one day decide that she was tired of playing house with him in America, sleeping in shitty motels, and getting thrown around by monsters. He dreaded the day she decided she wanted more than a fake house, marriage, and life and went back to England with her snot-nosed ex.

* * *

Dean flicked his phone open with a glance. “What’s up?”

“I have to run over to Harry’s office for a bit.” Hermione said, sounding annoyed. “They think they have a line on Travers and need me to look at some of his work.”

Dean drew in a breath. “You going into the field?” He didn’t like when she was pulled in over remaining Death Eaters and they both knew it. The few that remained had been a pain, especially since they were wily fuckers who wanted his girlfriend dead. 

The answer was hesitant. “Not today. Even if it is him, it’ll take a few weeks for them to come up with a strike plan.” 

Well hell. At least it was just office work for today. “I’ll pick up a pizza.”

“You’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know. You got your knife?”

“Yes.” He could practically  _ hear _ the eyeroll.

“Good. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“It probably won’t be until morning.” Hermione warned. 

“We have a fridge. Pizza’ll keep.”

* * *

Hermione Granger walked into the cozy living room of what had become her living room, to find her boyfriend staring at his phone, brooding. Sighing, she wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her frame, and sat down beside him. “Still no word from your father?”

“Nothing.” Dean said, swallowing. He found himself wondering if he should have stayed hunting with his dad instead of going solo or hunting with his girl. He had been on solo hunts many times before, but he and his dad always kept in touch, shared their next cases, caught up on new information. This kind of communication blackout was rare, especially nowadays, when Dean was a fully-fledged solo hunter himself. “It’s not like him, not this long.”

“We can head out in the morning, check his safe houses, in case he’s injured.” Hermione suggested, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Dean looked over at her. “‘ _ We?’ _ He repeated. “Oh no, Bewitched. If he finds out about you, he’ll shoot you before I can get a word in.”

“Dean, how could he tell?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to introduce myself as ‘Hermione Granger, Hunter, Witch, Ministry Malcontent.’”

Dean wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to risk it. He shook his head, even as he put his arm around her. “Nope, too dangerous. I am keeping you two as far apart as I possibly can.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.” Hermione argued. “If something is wrong, you may need someone to back you up.”

“I can handle myself, sweetheart.” Dean chimed back. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I know you can, but alone is not the answer. I can leave my wand in my bag?”

“I don’t think so, Mary Poppins.” Dean shot down. “We both know how that bag works, and you have a tendency to forget something shouldn't fit in it. I’m keeping you without the bullet holes.” He sighed. “I’ll just check the safehouses.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. “Make sure  _ you _ check in, or he’ll find out sooner rather than later.”

Dean smirked, putting his phone aside and pushing her back into the sofa. “I love it when you're bossy.”

* * *

“Anything?”

Dean slammed the door of the last safe house. “Not since the voicemail earlier today.” He growled, annoyed. “I can’t even tell the last time he was at any of these.”

“He was going to a case in California, right?” Hermione said, her voice even. “I’ll meet you at our nearest safehouse and we’ll start out with that one. Retrace his steps.”

Dean stomped his way back to the Impala. “No. Absolutely not. Unless you’ve suddenly become a _muggle_ in the last few days.” 

“Unfortunately not.” Hermione replied, rather tartly. “But this has gone beyond that, Dean.” He could practically hear how she was planning out her words, she always enunciated more when she was thinking. “But your father is an experienced hunter. If he’s gone missing because of something he was hunting, you’re going to need back-up. This goes beyond whether or not you’re worried about him finding out you’re dating a witch…”

“It’s more than that.” Dean snapped, wrapping his hand around the leather steering wheel and trying to get this through to her. “Babe, if he finds out, he  _ will _ kill you.” And Dean didn’t know what he would do in that situation. A year ago he would have said without hesitation he’d protect his father. Hell, two years ago he’d have pulled the trigger himself. “I can’t...I can’t handle that.”

Hermione went quiet for a moment. “I could leave my wand at home.”

“You know you don’t feel safe without it, Samantha, especially since you can't wiggle your nose.” He tried to joke, when the thought hit him. “I’ll take Sammy.”

“What?” Hermione repeated, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“My brother, Sam.” Dean said, changing direction. “He’s already in California, at Stanford. He knows Dad almost as well as I do.”

“Didn’t he give up hunting?” Hermione asked, voice cautious. “After a big fight with your father?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, remembering that day well. “But we’re not hunting monsters, we’re hunting our old man. They may not have spoken in four years, but I know Sammy, he still cares.”

Hermione blew out a breath. “Check in.” She ordered. “And if he doesn’t agree,  _ I’m joining you, Dean Winchester _ .” There was a pause. “And if you ever need me, I’m just a call away.”

“Same.” Dean answered. “I may not be able to get somewhere as quick as you, but if you need me, I’ll make the Impala  _ fly _ .”

“Remind me to tell you about the Anglia.” Hermione replied dryly. 


	2. Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pilot in asides.

Hermione Granger didn’t like not knowing things. It was probably going to kill her one day, but it was true. She hoarded information like a niffler hoarded shiny things. Usually this was not an issue. She was the kind of odd duck who found fact-finding expeditions and long hours of research  _ fun _ . So, when her boyfriend was struggling to find his father, she tried to help. The problem was, she could only help so much.

And then he took off to find his brother. She understood it, she did. She could still remember the look of disgust on his face when he had figured out that she wasn’t  _ just _ another hunter, until she had literally saved his life in a vampire nest. She knew how much prejudice he had to get over, and he  _ had _ worked to do it. He was afraid  _ for  _ her, not ashamed, and that made it easier to let him drive away, alone, on a far from normal hunt with no backup guaranteed. Not easy, but  _ easier _ . She trusted his skills, the situation was just...unsettling.

And so, she busied herself with the case files from Glacier Bay, trying to determine whether the lycanthrope was a muggle who would have to be killed, or a magical, who could be helped with Wolfsbane, mind-healing, and time. It was a distraction from waiting for the phone to ring. 

And then, it did. She flipped open her mobile with ease. “Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I found Sammy.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  _ Sam _ wasn’t lost, but at the same time she knew how Dean was struggling with missing his brother. He had always missed Sam, made a point to tell her how well they would get on, if he could ever risk introducing them. “That’s good,” she said instead. “Did he agree to go with you?”

“After arguing a bit.” Dean admitted. “But we’ve only got until Monday. He has some law school interview. “ She heard him blow out a breath. “My brother’s turning into one of those guys who’d try to toss us in prison.”

“Or saves your arse trying to get you out.” Hermione countered. “I did a law apprenticeship before we met.”

“Yeah, but you’re a  _ woo-woo _ lawyer, and you only do that to save your friends’ asses.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the ‘ _ woo-woo _ ’ lawyer part. “And you don’t know what he’ll do with his law degree, Dean.”

“Well, he’s packing so we can head to Jericho. I guess I just gotta hope we can track down Dad by Sunday. How’s everything in Oz, Glinda?”

Hermione smiled despite herself and through the eyeroll. She knew the nicknames weren’t mean-spirited, at least not anymore. At first they had been a reminder to himself, that he couldn’t let himself get too close. Now they served as little signposts to her that they were... _ whatever they were _ ...and he accepted her magic. The one set of IDs he had for them as Samantha and Darren Puckle was proof enough of the meaning to the running joke. “I’ll be heading out to Glacier Bay on Monday.” She informed him. “I’ve done as much as I can from here. No news on Travers yet.”

“You stocked on silver bullets?”

“I bought a new batch. I’ve got the aconite cooking in the lab for dipping before I leave.” Hermione reassured him. 

“Schmendrick’s not going on the team to find Travers, whenever Harry finds him, is he?”

“No,” Hermione said, heaving a sigh. Dean had yet to  _ meet _ Ron, but he had seen enough letters to know that he didn’t like him. Unlike Hermione’s ever changing nicknames, Ron was eternally Schmendrick. “Ron’s not an Auror anymore, remember? He’s helping his brother in the shop.”

“Keep an eye on your six.” Dean advised, as he spotted Sammy at the door. 

“You too, check in when you reach Jericho.” Hermione advised. “And good luck.”

* * *

The bridge was dark and cool, or as cool as this part of California got anyway. Dean set his teeth, shaking his head slightly as Sam reminded him about the interview. He knew Dad and Sam had left in a bad place, but he couldn’t help but wonder if law school was more important than Dad, or more important than family. It irritated him that Sam could just...walk away from it all, when he couldn’t even dare to imagine more than playing house. 

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You’re just going to become some lawyer, marry your girl?”

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam asked, sounding defensive and confused. 

“Does Jessica know the truth about you?” Dean asked, knowing that she didn’t from the way Sam had excused her. “I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done?”

“No, and she’s not ever going to know.” Sam replied, taking a step forward aggressively.

“Well, that’s healthy.” Dean replied, dryly, not sure if it was purely him or because of Hermione’s influence on sharing things, but hiding something that huge in a relationship just had bad news written on it. His girl might be a witch, but at least he could be honest about what he did and the fact that she hunted made her understand even more. What Sam was trying to do was hide a lot of things that could come back and bite him later. “You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you’re going to have to face up to who you really are.”

Hunters didn’t get happy endings. No matter how much they might want it.

* * *

Hermione closed her copy of Northanger Abbey as her phone rang. Checking it, she smiled. “How goes the hunt, love?”

Dean’s voice was wry. “Well, I just jumped off a bridge to avoid being run over by my own car, being driven by a woman in white. I think I managed to get the smell of sewage out of my hair, but unless you can do something about the clothes, I think they’re trashed.” 

Hermione sat straight up at that. “Sod the clothes!” She said, angrily. “What do you mean you  _ jumped off a bloody bridge? _ ” Images of a bloody and broken Dean Winchester invaded her mind. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Dean said, blowing off the concern. “Sammy and I found dad’s room at the motel, he figured out that it was a woman in white…”

“Take a picture of where you are.” Hermione interrupted. “Send it to me.”

“What? It’s just a motel bathroom, sweetheart, not much to see.”

“Just take the bloody picture, Winchester!” Hermione ordered, already grabbing her beaded bag. Honestly, why did the men in her life have to be so stubborn. Her phone tinged with a text message.

* * *

“There, you happy now…” Dean broke off as there as a crack, and Hermione appeared in front of him, crowding him into the wall of the small motel bathroom.”Shit.” He cursed, in a half-whisper. “What are you doing?”

Hermione ignored him, pulled out her wand, and cast a silencing charm around the room. “Well, I’m sorry, but  _ someone _ decided to jump off a  _ bridge _ .”

“There was a woman in white in my car trying to run us over!” Dean defended himself. 

Hermione hummed at him. “I heard. Hold still.” She did a brief diagnostic charm, watching as injured areas flared in blue light. She ended the charm and dug into her bag. “You’ll need to be careful with a woman in white, she may target you.”

Dean straightened at that, frowning down at the curly-headed woman. “Are you calling me a cheater?”

“Don’t be daft. I wouldn’t be here healing you, if I thought you were.” Hermione replied, pushing herself up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “But women in white are by definition mentally unstable. They will look for any excuse to assuage their own guilt by punishing someone for a perceived sin instead of taking responsibility for their own.” She uncorked a bottle and handed it to him. “And you’re a flirt, love. It doesn’t bother me, and  _ I _ would never think you were being unfaithful for it, but a woman in white could use it. Drink.”

Reassured, especially since Hermione knew his history with women, Dean held up the vial. “What, no sugar, Mary Poppins?”

“Drink the bloody potion.” Hermione replied, smiling despite herself. When he had, she kissed him deeply in reward. “That should fix your sprained ribs. Now stand still while I get the rest.”

“Well, that’s better than a spoonful of sugar.” He joked, letting her do her thing, once again marvelling at the fact that two years ago, he wouldn’t have let her point her wand at him.

* * *

“Wilkins’ residence.”

“Hello there, Mrs. Wilkins.” Dean drawled in amusement. 

“New phone?” Hermione asked, and he could hear the curiosity in her voice. 

“Got pinched by the cops, had to burn it.”

There was a longsuffering sigh on the other end. “ _ Again _ ? Why is it you get picked up twice as often as I do?”

“No one thinks a pretty girl is a serial killer.” Dean replied, rolling his eyes. “The last time we found a vampire nest, and you were covered in blood, you managed to convince them you were attacked and they spent an hour trying to comfort you while you went for the Oscar.”

“Let you clean up, didn’t it?” Hermione replied, smugly. “How’s the case?”

“Done.” Dean replied, running a hand through his hair. “Shot out the windows of the Impala, and Sammy drove it into an old house, but the woman in white is gone.”

“Your dad?”

“Left us a message on where he’d be going next. Coordinates, but nothing else.” Dean could practically hear the way her jaw clenched at that. “Dropped Sammy off, looks like I’m heading to Blackbottle Ridge, Colorado next.”

“Not by yourself!” 

“Sammy, he’s got his interview today. He’s happy, he’s got a girl…”

“Funny, so do you.” Hermione said, a little hurt. “You can’t do this by yourself.”

“And you’ve got a case.” Dean reminded her. “Look I’m a big boy, I can handle this.”

“You shouldn’t do this alone.” Hermions said softly. “And it’s not  _ me _ you want with you. Go back to your brother, Dean. Wait until his interview is over, he won’t be starting right away. You two should do this together.”

Dean felt his throat clog up with things he wanted to say, but never could. “Yeah, okay. You going to be staying at the safehouse in Kalispell?”

“It’s right there, so yes.” 

“Be careful.”

“You too.” Dean hung up and turned the car around. Hermione was right, he needed Sam for this. They needed to find their dad together.

* * *

Dean knew his brother was in shock. Hell, he wasn’t exactly sure he wasn’t feeling something along those lines. Seeing Jess, pulling Sam from the fire, it brought the old memories too far forward. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had done this to his brother, if he hadn’t involved Sam in the hunt for their father, if he still would have been obliviously happy. The rational voice in his mind, which had a British accent, told him that if anything it was probably the fact that their dad was chasing it that had caused it, but Dean still felt guilt. After getting Sammy squared away in a motel room, he went out to the Impala, and pulled out his phone again. 

“What did he say?” Hermione asked without preamble, and Dean understood why, he had talked to her only an hour ago. 

“Salt the doors and windows, double your wards, and spend the night in the panic room.” Dean managed, instead of answering. Rubbing his hand over his chin. “Hell, call Trouble. I don’t want you alone.”

Hermione’s voice changed and went higher. “Dean, what happened? Why should I call Harry? You  _ hate _ when I call Harry for backup.”

“The thing that killed Mom just killed Jess. It killed Mom, now it’s killed Jess. I don’t want it getting  _ close _ to you. Salt. Cat’s eye shells, nazar beads, whatever witchy protection shit you can throw up, and I don’t want you alone.”

“Oh my god.” Hermione breathed. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Sam’s a little shaken up. I think he’s in shock.”

Hermione didn’t have the heart to point out that _Sam_ didn’t know she existed and therefore his response to his girlfriend’s death wouldn’t be to protect _her._ _Dean_ was shaken up. “Okay. Okay. But Dean, you know I’m not an easy target.” 

“Which is why I haven’t thrown Sammy in the back and headed back right now. Keep a shotgun by you.”

“Dean, I’m heading out to Kalispell in a few hours.”

Right. “Take Harry with you.” He ground out, hating it. If anyone was going to be there to back his girl up, he wanted it to be him, but he knew that Harry was to her what Sam was to him. 

“I’ll Floo him now.” Hermione reassured him. “I’ll be okay, Dean.”

“You better be, or I’ll be pissed.”


	3. Wendigo/Dead in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean hunts a Wendigo while Hermione and Harry hunt a werewolf. While the brothers head to Lake Manitoc, Hermione returns to Britain as the Aurors close in on Travers.

Dean figured out fairly quickly that they weren’t going to find Dad at Blackwater Ridge. He didn’t tell Sam though knowing that the way he was handling things, Sam was likely to lose it. He hadn’t been sleeping, and Dean was an expert at telling just how much sleep deprivation was changing someone. He tried to do his best at the _sensitive_ thing, and _talk_ about it, but Sam was stubborn.

They were heading high into the woods tomorrow, a place where there would be little to no cell reception, and so, he called the house in Kalispell. He got no answer, and bit down on his panic as he tried Hermione’s cell phone. 

No answer. 

Clenching his jaw the way Hermione scolded him about, saying he’d develop tempo...manocular joint whatever, he dialed Harry. Luckily for everyone, Harry picked up. 

“Potter.” Harry answered. 

“Where’s Hermione?” 

“Hello Dean,” Harry replied, and Dean could hear the amusement in his voice. “I’m well, thank you, and yourself?”

Dean clenched his fist slightly. “I’d be better if I could talk to Hermione.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay, okay, just a minute, she’s attempting to cook.”

“I _am_ cooking, thank you.” Dean heard Hermione say defensively, before her voice came on the line. “Hey love.”

“Hey yourself,” Dean said with a slight smile. “What’s the big idea making me call Harry?”

“My hands were full.” Hermione defended. “How’s Colorado?”

“I don’t think Dad’s here.” He admitted. “But there’s definitely a case. We’re thinking skinwalker or Black Dog. How are you?”

“Well, let’s just say that while I have very fond memories of many times in my life, _Harry and Hermione Go Camping_ was not one I ever particularly wished to revisit.”

Dean snorted. “I’m not too fond of it either. We’re hiking up to the ridge tomorrow, probably won’t have much reception. You know whether it’s one of yours or one of mine?”

“We’re thinking it’s a witch or wizard, but it’s hard to tell right now.” Hermione admitted. “Be careful out there.”

“You too.”

* * *

“Hey honey, how was the office?”

“Oh, you know, saved a family, shot a wendigo with a flare gun. Business as usual.”

“A _wendigo_ ? In _Colorado_? I didn’t know they went that far west.”

“Yeah, I know, I didn’t think so either. Still in Kalispell?”

“Leaving tonight, found the baby werewolf, got it taken care of, found a local potions master, got him to agree to take the Wolfsbane training.”

“You funding it too?”

“Well, what else are my Galleons for?”

“Headed back to home base?”

“Actually, heading back to London. I’m going to stay with Harry and Luna for a bit, he thinks they’re closing in on Travers.”

“Be careful. If you get a chance, shoot the bastard. Tell the kids I say hi.”

“I will. Where are you headed next?”

“Honestly? Not sure. Something will find us.”

“Something always does.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

* * *

Dean didn’t know what to do with Sam. He knew _why_ Sam felt he had to find Dad, and he was right there with him, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle this new Sam. He wasn’t the one good with feelings. One of the reasons he and Hermione worked so well together was that there wasn’t a lot of _feelings_ talk. They hunted, they healed each other, they teased, they had sex, they slept and they did it all again. There wasn’t a lot of need to _talk_ about it. Still, Hermione was better at this than he was. 

“Wilkins.”

“Winchester.” Dean teased, using the same official voice she started with, she only really used it when she spent too much time around Harry. 

“Dean…” Hermione chuckled. “You have a case?” 

“Drownings in Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Three drownings this year, bodies missing. Any thoughts?”

“Freshwater or saltwater?”

“Fresh, I think.” 

“I don’t think there are any kelpie sightings or merrow colonies around, I’ll check the ICW files.”

“Thanks, babe.” 

“No problem.”

“Hey, how’s the kids?” Dean asked, unable to help thinking about Lucas.

“James coated Harry in yoghurt today.” Hermione laughed. “Teddy’s just finished his homework.” 

Dean chuckled at that. “Good for them.”

Hermione smiled at the phone. “Gimme a second.” She moved over to the table where Teddy was dissecting a biscuit, and held out the phone to him.

“Uncle Dean?” Teddy said excitedly, his hair going bright green in excitement.

Dean smiled at the phone. “Hey Neon.” He said cheerfully, referencing the kid’s crazy hair. “How have you been?”

“I played hide and seek with Aunt Mione today! And I made nargle-shaped biscuits with Aunt Luna.” 

“Sounds like a good day, kid.” 

“Uncle Ron says Aunt Mione is getting tired of America and she’s gonna come home soon. You gonna come with her? Uncle Harry says you're better at solving things than a lot of the Aurors.”

Dean chuckled, glad he didn’t have to strain to hear the sharp ‘ _Teddy’_!’ from Hermione somewhere close by the boy. “Pretty sure that’s wishful thinking on Ron’s part, bud.” At least he hoped it was. “But I’ll tell you what, next time you come visit, we’ll do something fun, just you and me.”

“Really?” Teddy enthused. “In the Impala?” 

“Sure.” Dean answered, easily. “As long as you remember the rules.”

“Only Aunt Mione approved tapes so you don’t have to sleep on the couch, no kicking the seat, and if we stop anywhere, the hair has to stay one colour.”

“And?”

“Zeppelin rules!”

“You got it, bud.”

* * *

Hermione was biting the end of her quill when her phone rang, and giving up on Travers for a moment, she answered it. “Wilkins.”

“Winchester.” Came the amused voice over the line. 

“Hey.” Hermione said, pushing away the parchment with a sigh, glad for the excuse to stop staring at words that were beginning to swim. “I checked with the IWC. No magical or supernatural creatures have been recorded in that lake.”

“Yeah, we’re thinking vengeful spirit.” Dean answered. “Looks like it’s over though. Every victim was tied to Bill Carlton, who I’m pretty sure just committed suicide by spirit. Both his kids and his godson in less than a year.”

“That poor man.” Hermione said, her heart aching for the man. “Godson is a strange choice, though. Not many would make that connection.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione could hear the confusion in Dean’s voice as he asked. “If someone wanted to torment you, going after James and Teddy would be a great way to do it.”

“It would,” Hermione allowed, considering. “Especially because I don’t have children of my own. It’s just a lot less done in the muggle world than the magical these days.”

She could hear the gears in his mind turning from the silence on the line. “Dean?”

“You’re right.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the local sheriff wants us out quick. How goes the hunt for Travers?”

“The man is smart.” Was Hermione’s sigh. “He was a spy within the Ministry in the First War, and he knows how Aurors work. He’s not hiding like a convict.”

“They need you to be a Hunter. They’re asking you to hunt a trueborn like you would a hellborn.” Dean finished, and Hermione could tell he was _not happy._

“They’ll never admit it, but yes.” Hermione agreed. Hunters had a notoriously bad reputation in the wizarding world, and for a reason. The few witches and wizards who did hunt were usually treated with a suspicion that they would turn against their own kind. She had ended up hunting through her work with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and when the bureaucracy and entrenched attitudes of the Ministry had gotten to be too much, she had taken an offer with the International Confederation of Wizards to hunt full time with all the licenses and protections afforded by the magical community, but if it got out she was _hunting_ Travers, fear would follow. 

“This guy sounds dangerous, and the situation is shitty. Be careful.” Dean warned. 

“It’s still all paperwork.” Hermione promised. “I’m only narrowing down his likely dens.”

“We’re heading out of Lake Manitoc. Want me to check in when we get somewhere?”

“Please.” Hermione agreed. “But I’ll still be safe at Harry’s.”

“Good. I’ll call when we get somewhere else.”

“I’ll keep my phone on.”

* * *

Dean couldn’t get the feeling that they were leaving too early out of his gut. Something about Lucas’s fear gnawed at him, the look on his face. It reminded him of himself, after his mother’s death, it had reminded him of Teddy, after Andromeda’s death. Dean and Hermione had taken the kid out for the day, which was supposed to have been a chance for him to get to know the kid. They had returned after the most bizarre ice cream Dean had ever had, Teddy half-asleep on his feet, to find the house broken into. Dean had wanted to go first, clearing the rooms, but Teddy had run inside before either of them could stop him. 

Dean had sprinted after, but he was too late, getting hold of the boy only after he had seen the savagery of the werewolf attack. Hermione had Flooed Harry from the next room, too afraid of people overhearing to send a Patronus, while Dean had pressed the kid’s face into his jacket. He spent the entire night with the kid, back at Harry’s place, distracting him by teaching him skills Hermione later made faces at him for, but the kid had loved it. He had been ‘Uncle Dean,’ since that night, when Teddy fell asleep in his lap, clutching his shirt. If he and Hermione ever parted ways, he would still be _Uncle Dean_. 

He heard Hermione’s voice saying again about how strange it was that it had chosen Bill Carlton’s godson, and admitted to himself that before he had met Hermione and Harry, he had never really heard about godparents much. 

“Green.” Sam observed.

“What?” Dean asked, only half-hearing his brother.

“Light’s green.” Sam said. 

Dean, faced with a decision and an intersection, made a decision. 

“Uh, Interstate’s the other way.” Sam reminded him.

“I know.” He answered. Sam might be right that he hadn’t known three kids off the top of his head, but he knew Lucas _now_ , and he wasn’t going to leave him terrified if he could help it, especially if something was wrong.

* * *

Dean knew it was a win. The vengeful spirit had his peace, and Andrea and Lucas were safe. Lucas had started speaking again, and with the lake drying up, no-one would drown in it again. However, it didn’t feel like a win. He hadn’t _liked_ Jake Devins, but his whole purpose was _saving people_ well, that and hunting things. Watching a man be taken by a vengeful spirit just didn’t sit right with him. He kept wondering if he had thrown the bike in the lake, if it would have appeased the spirit without the death. Given the choice, however, he also knew he’d choose Lucas over his grandfather if he had to do it again. He had been sure for a moment, with the boy’s body in his arms that he had lost them both.

_Feelings_ just kept getting all over him. He waited until Sam was asleep in the dark of the Lakefront Motel to slide into the bathroom and pull out his phone. He needed to distract himself.

“Hey, you all right?”

“I went back.” He said. “We did, Sammy and I. You were right, it wasn’t godson, it was son-in-law. The spirit was after two men. Sammy stopped the sheriff’s daughter from being drowned in her bathtub, and I got his grandson out of the lake, but not until the sheriff sacrificed himself.”

“Godric,” Hermione managed. “Is the grandson all right?”

“Yeah, I managed to get him out of the water in time.” He swallowed. “I watched a man drown himself, Hermione. I’d do it again to save the kid. What does that make me?”

Hermione blew out a breath. “You know, when I was eleven, I watched Harry walk through a wall of flames, one of my only real friends, and I didn’t know if he’d come back. We had just watched Ron sacrifice himself and thrown across a giant chessboard, and I just let him do it.” 

“Why?”

“Because we thought there was only enough potion for one person to survive the flames. We thought the Potions Master was behind it, that he had brought extra, and I didn’t check to see if it refilled. I just went back to try and find someone to help.” 

“How did you handle it, after?”

“Cordially hated myself for an entire summer.” Hermione confessed for the first time. “I thought that I should have checked, that there might have been another option. And yet, when the War was ending, I let him walk towards his death again.”

“You still dream about that, sometimes, watching Harry go to meet Voldemort.” Dean knew that from the odd night he had held her through nightmares. 

“If you want to call them dreams.” Hermione agreed. “Dean, what we do, it’s hard. I struggle every time I’m faced with a muggle werewolf. I _hate_ that differences in magic mean that I have to kill it, but I do it.”

“And then you go home and try to make that aconite potion work for muggles.” Dean observed. 

“And then I go home and try to make a Wolfsbane potion for muggles.” Hermione agreed. “Until you pull me out of the lab and distract me.”

Dean paused a moment. “There’s vacancies.”

“Snap me a picture of a nearby alley.” Hermione said simply. 

“I mean, you don’t have to, it’d only be for a few hours…”

“Sometimes we need a few hours and a distraction.” Hermione retorted. 

Dean left the bathroom, and walked out of the motel, finding a nearby alley with a dumpster and snapped a picture.


	4. Phantom Traveler/Bloodborne [Part 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lead on Travers has Hermione going on the hunt with Harry and a team of Aurors, while Dean and Sam are contacted by someone Dean and John had helped once upon a time. Both upset after an argument, Dean and Hermione remember their first case together.

When his phone rang at three in the morning, Dean woke with a groan but answered anyway, too tired to look to see who it was. “Hello?” He said gruffly. 

“Sorry for waking you, love, but I only had a minute.” Hermione’s voice came over the line. “I needed to talk to you.”

“‘Ermione?” Dean asked, yawning as he sat up. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Hermione’s voice was tense as she answered. “I’m heading out with Harry as soon as everyone is geared up.”

“Werewolf?” He questioned, knowing that was her specialty.    


Hermione paused. “We found Travers.”

“No.” Dean said firmly, suddenly fully awake. “That’s the cops’ job. You’re a hunter. You know how much trouble that could make for you.”

“They're called  _ Aurors _ , Dean.” Hermione reminded him. “And I won’t be on the assault team, only on the tracking team.”

“And before this it was just  _ paperwork _ .” Dean retorted. “You’re gonna find yourself in the middle of it, witch.”

“I’ll be with Harry.” Hermione attempted to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, because  _ Trouble’s _ never led you into any.” Dean replied, snorting. 

“I didn’t call you to argue with you.” Hermione replied, her voice going on into that clipped, overly enunciated way she spoke with when annoyed. “I called to let you know that I won’t have my phone in the field, and that I miss you.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, so long that he shook his head as she said his name again. “Yeah, all right. Stay safe.” He paused. “I miss you too. Keep Trouble on your six and let me know when it’s finally over.”

“I will. Get some more sleep, love.”

“Yeah, okay. Good hunting, Glinda.” Dean hung up with a sigh and something coiling in his gut, but instead of heading back to sleep, he plodded over to the bathroom, did his business, brushed his teeth, and then wandered back to bed past Sam watching a George Foreman commercial with a glazed look on his face. Shaking his head, he flopped back onto the bed, pressing his face into a pillow and holding one to his chest, falling asleep wishing he was back at home base with his witch safe in bed.

* * *

After another awkward and cut short attempt to  _ talk _ to his brother, they ended up back on the road; to Pennsylvania this time. It was rare to hear back from people they helped, and Dean felt strangely positive about the fact that Jerry Panowski had called them again for help, especially since neither he nor his father were as good-natured as Sam. He usually had faith in the things that they did, but to hear from the victims that the trouble had not returned was a bit more of a relief than he expected.

It was good to hunt with his brother again too, even if he didn’t appreciate Dean’s skills as much as he would like. Sure, he had used his Bikini Inspector ID more than once, but that was only ever for a quick flash, not breaking into a secured evidence hangar as an agent for a fairly new government agency. He couldn’t help but be a little annoyed that Sam didn’t appreciate how hard he worked to get their IDs perfect. Hermione had complimented him on his fakes the very first time they met. Not to mention that she thought the walkman turned EMF detector was a feat of ingenuity and engineering prowess.

* * *

_ Dean had come to the city tracking a lead on what he thought was a lone vampire. He had dug out his FBI badge, holding it up, but just as he was getting out of the Impala, a woman in a suit passed him.  _

_ “ _ There _ you are,” she said, voice accented like all those ridiculous historical dramas. “Captain Jennings, this is my FBI attaché. I was wondering where you had gone.” _

_ “Of course?” Dean said, recovering quickly and playing along, hoping it would get him the information he needed. “I wanted to take a look around the area on my own.” _

_ “Of course, of course, Agent…?” The obviously distressed police officer replied.  _

_ “Collins, Gary Collins.” Dean said, flashing his ID, but careful not to smile too much. Government bigwigs never did, especially not on cases. _

_ “Good to meet you.” Jennings said, shaking his hand. “DCI Wilkins was just telling me about how Scotland Yard believes human traffickers might be behind the disappearances?” _

_ “The FBI is exploring  _ all  _ avenues.” Dean said, rather blandly, not wanting to destroy her story. He looked sideways at the woman, who had her hair pulled back in a bun, wearing little makeup, if any. She certainly  _ looked  _ the part. Still, if  _ she  _ was Scotland Yard,  _ he  _ was  _ really  _ FBI. _

_ “Of course, of course. Let me show you to the office you can use. It’s mine, but while you’re here…” _

_ After the  _ extremely accommodating _ captain let them alone, she turned in the wheeled chair to look at him. “Good ID, probably the best I’ve seen.” _

_ He grinned back at her. “No one appreciates good art these days. Why not Interpol?” _

_ “Despite what the telly will tell you, Interpol doesn’t do much investigating on the ground. It’s more information analysis and assisting local LEOs. There’s more action in the Metropolitan Police.” _

_ “Good to know.” Dean might not know her name, but he knew a Hunter when he saw one. “Dean Winchester.” _

_ “Hermione Granger.” _

* * *

Harry sighed as he flopped beside Hermione in the small camp the Auror team had made. She was holding herself apart, and he wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. She had that irritated, ruffled air she always got when she was annoyed that someone else had a point, but she was too much of a stubborn Gryffindor to verbally admit it yet. Having heard her as they packed, he suspected he knew why. “You still sulking over the domestic you were having earlier?”

“I am not  _ sulking _ .” Hermione said, voice strained sharp. 

“So he was right then, whatever it was about, and you know it, but you don’t want to admit it.” Harry said, amused. 

Hermione eyed him for a long moment. “You see me a bit too well for my liking, Harry.” She said, shaking her head. “When did you start doing that?”

“Hey,” Harry teased. “I wasn’t the one compared to a teaspoon.” More seriously, though, he settled in beside her. “We’ve all grown from what we’ve been through, and I learned early to read people’s moods.” The fact that he learned that to avoid Vernon Dursley’s punishments went unsaid. They knew each other well enough to understand that much. “So what were you arguing about?”

“Dean didn’t want me to come along on the hu... _ mission _ .” She cut the word off, guiltily, but even as she did, she realised that Dean had had more of a point than she wanted to admit. “I told him I was just on the tracking team and wouldn’t be on the assault team, but he thinks the Aurors are going to try and use me as a scapegoat, and that I could get in trouble.”

“He’s right.” Harry said, flatly. “I won’t deny we need you here for the tracking team, and that you’re probably the only person short of a Gringotts’ Cursebreaker who could break through Travers's wards, but you’re going to want to make sure it’s done right, and you’ll be tempted to go along on the capture to make sure it is. You  _ can’t _ , Hermione. The spellstorm that could create isn’t worth it.”

Hermione sighed, but said nothing. 

Harry leaned back. “Hermione, you have made a good life for yourself. Sure, it’s not the happily ever after you might have dreamed about before Hogwarts, the mostly calm life I have with Luna, or Ron’s ideal world he imagined for the two of you, but it  _ suits _ you. You’ve been happier this past year and a half than I have seen you since the start of second year.” 

“I have been happy.” Hermione agreed with a smile. 

“Which is why I stopped complaining about you being so far away.” Harry admitted. “I may not always see eye to eye with the man, but Winchester makes you light up. He takes the darkness out of your eyes and the tension out of your shoulders. You need someone who loves you like that.”

Hermione made an aborted gesture with her arm, and a strange noise emitted from her throat. “He doesn’t...I haven’t...we’ve never said…”

Harry shook his head but his smile was understanding. “I know you, Hermione. You love him, but you’re afraid if you admit it, you’ll lose him to whatever thing you’re hunting next.”

“Dean doesn’t do love and relationships.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “If it  _ was _ true, and I admitted it, I wouldn’t need to wait for the next monster. He’ll jump in the Impala, burn his phone, and be in the wind before I could get an  _ Incarcerous _ out.”

“Hermione,” Harry said patiently. “The man  _ lives _ with you. You got a  _ muggle hunter _ to allow you to portkey the pair of you to London, and he’s spent  _ multiple _ days with my family. The kids  _ literally _ call him 'Uncle Dean.' Whether you two admit it or not, you’re in a relationship, and I don’t think Dean Winchester is the sort of man to do any of that for some random woman he doesn’t love.”

Hermione huffed. “Shut up, Potter.”

“Admit you love him and I’ll shut up.” Harry parried. “Remember Hermione, love is the most powerful magic there is, it’s the power no-one understands, that the DoM spends thousands studying, and that the dark knows not. It might just protect you one day.”

“Fine.” Hermione said, blowing out a breath, knowing she couldn’t take this admission back, even to herself. “I love him, are you happy now, Harry?”

“When you say you won’t go for the capture.” Harry said stubbornly. 

“Fine.” Hermione said slowly. “I’ll stand down on the capture.”

Harry chuckled. “You know, he’s not the sort of bloke I ever saw you with.”

Hermione chuckled at that. “Really? I fancied him right off, if I’m honest.”

* * *

_ Hermione Granger was the queen of overprepared, so of course she had familiarised herself with the various hunters working in the United States, and how the ICW had them rated for both effectiveness and for danger to magical folk. That was why she immediately recognised Dean Winchester. She knew he was rated black for extremely effective, and red for very dangerous. She also knew she could ‘hand over’ the case to the ‘FBI,’ but if she was honest, she didn’t want to do it.  _

_ It was probably monumentally stupid to attempt a hunt with a hunter who didn’t believe in trueborn witches, but Hermione hated to give up a case, and she was muggleborn and lived fairly muggle. She figured she could handle one muggle-style hunt. _

_And who was she kidding, he was_ exactly _her type._ _She had a crush on Lockhart because of his_ supposed _bravery, knowledge, and power in overcoming monsters. Viktor had been not only the world’s youngest Seeker, but the top student at Durmstrang, and physically imposing to boot. Ron had a skill in strategy (that he didn’t take advantage of enough), Gryffindor bravery, and he had shown compassion even to the House Elves. Now she was faced with a man whose sheet made Lockhart’s_ supposed _work look like child’s play, the eye for detail that made fakes_ that good _and physically, well...good Godric. Despite the danger she_ wanted _to get to know him._

_ “The vampire nest has been moving across the states, relocating every month and a half.” Hermione started, pulling out her files. “I’ve got at least thirty victims across four states.” She spread out the folders.  _

_ Dean smiled at her, as if she had done something particularly amusing. “You’re good at the research, aren't you?” _

_ “I’m not bad.” Hermione said, flushing pink.  _

_ “Uh huh.” Dean said, shaking his head. “How many dead or occult languages have you got in that head of yours, Hermione?” _

_ “Six-ish?” Hermione admitted, a little ruefully. She had thought he was about to mock her for being a bookworm, or too focused on the research aspect, but for the first of many times, he surprised her. _

_ “Good, the research is my least favourite part.” He gave her a smile that made her feel _ seen _and_ appreciated _for something other than being Hermione Granger: War Heroine for the first time in a long time._ _ Like it was that simple, like they were now a team. “So, where do you think we should start our search, DCI Wilkins?” _

_ “Here, Agent Collins.” Hermione said, jabbing a finger at the map. _

_ “Abandoned warehouse? Classic. I approve.” _


	5. Phantom Traveler [Part 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean faces his fear of flying, while Hermione struggles to do what she's promised, with...mixed results.

Dean was about to get on a plane. He was about to get on a plane that was marked to crash by some kind of possibly Japanese travel demon. He had never even got on a  _ normal _ plane. There was a reason he had agreed to let Hermione magic them away to London -- and it was to avoid a situation where he had to get on a plane. 

No survivors.

The plane was probably going to crash.

There was a good chance that he could die tonight. In a plane crash. Caused by a demon obsessed with ‘ _no survivors.’_ Demons were not usually his thing. 

The last conversation he had with his witch was them arguing. If he went down like that, he didn’t want the last thing he heard from him to be some high-handed warning about not doing what they do. 

Hermione was in the middle of a hunt that could get her put in abracadabra prison if she made one wrong move. 

She didn’t have her phone because she was surrounded by a bunch of wizards, but...if nothing else, he could leave her a voicemail...something, in case he died. _In a plane crash._

While Sam was getting the tickets, he threw together some demon defenses in their go bags as best he could, cell phone tucked into his shoulder.

“You have reached Hermione, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Hey babe.” Dean started, and then swallowed. “I know you’re out in the field with Trouble, so I’ll keep this brief. Sammy and I caught a plane crash case, United Britannia, how’s that for irony? Seems like it was demonic, and the thing’s not too pleased there were survivors. It’s taking them out next time they’re in the air.”

He swallowed, and took a breath. “You know I’m not too good with planes on a normal day, but it seems like we have to get on this one. If the plane goes down...everything you need should be in the footlocker in the panic room at home base.” He ran a hand over his forehead. “Don’t turn into my dad hunting this thing if I don’t make it. I don’t regret being who I am...I just hoped to spend more of it with you, Poppins...Hermione.” He blew out a breath. “Sam’s expecting me. Gotta do something I never thought I would and leave on a jet plane.”

He hung up, blew out a breath, and headed for the terminal again, bags in hand.

* * *

Something was wrong. Sure, it had taken Hermione ages to track Travers to this location, and sure he had evaded capture for  _ years _ , but something was just  _ off _ , the entire thing was a little too textbook, a little too easy for her liking. 

But, she had made a promise to Harry, and so, she stayed back, wand at the ready, as the assault team went into the ramshackle cottage for Travers. The tracking team was all ready to jump in if needed, while maintaining a loose defense around the wooded property, and even though her fingers  _ ached _ to be out there, she forced herself to take that step back.

She wasn’t an Auror. She wasn’t cleared to arrest Death Eaters. She couldn’t be seen as a hunter hunting her own kind. She had to think about her godchildren, about Harry and Luna, about her life...about Dean. 

He was going to be terribly smug when he found out she had listened. Maybe she could just skip over that part. Harry  _ probably _ wouldn’t tell him. 

Oh, who was she kidding. Harry would  _ definitely _ tell him. 

Just as the tracking team got the call in to get closer, which meant that something had definitely  _ not _ gone to plan, Hermione felt a wand jab into her back.

“Still think you’re so clever, mudblood?” A voice hissed in her ear. “Let’s see if your blood traitors care more about catching me or saving you.” There was a low, guttural spell, not Latin derived muttered...and then, there was only pain.

* * *

Dean was  _ definitely _ never getting on another plane. He did his best to soothe Sam’s worries about what the demon had said, and made sure that Amanda was all right, before leaving Sam to check on the car, before heading to a payphone and dialing Hermione’s number. 

“Hey...so...you can just delete the last message I left you, no reason to listen to it. Sam and I figured it out.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry if I was short earlier, before you left with Harry. I’ll talk to you when you get back.”

Hanging up, he headed out to the car, made sure Sammy was a little less pale than he had been since the demon fucker threw Jessica’s death in his face, and then plugged his car charger into the cigarette lighter, and his phone into the charger. They were on the road for about ten minutes before it started up, chiming and ringing incessantly. 

“Who’s that? Is it dad?” Sam demanded. 

Dean looked down at the phone and shook his head. Four voicemails? That wasn’t good.

“Is it Jerry?”

Dean didn’t get a chance to answer, before the phone rang: it wasn’t Jerry or their father. He answered it as best he could, given the short wire. “Harry?”

“Dean, thank Godric.” Harry said, finally. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you!”

“Yeah, we had a demon on a plane. What’s up? You guys catch that bastard giving you the runaround?”

“A demon on a..? Never mind, not important.” Harry blew out a breath, coming harsh across the line. “Dean, it’s Hermione.”

Dean felt his heart drop, and the tires squealed as he pulled the Impala off the road. “Did they put her in prison for hunting Travers? Damn it, Harry…!”

“No, no, it’s...she’s in hospital. He snuck out some tunnel, flanked the tracking team, and cursed her in the back.”

“Hospital?” Dean repeated. “Where? Do I need a port-thing?”

“St. Mungo’s, in London.” Harry said, sounding exhausted. “And no, you can’t have a  _ portkey _ , Dean, you’re a muggle.”

“I literally just left an airport.” Dean suggested, not knowing where _that_ was coming from, considering he had just sworn to never get on a plane again. Sam gave him a strange look, and was obviously trying and failing to listen in. “I can...I can get a flight.”

“There’s really no point.” Harry said, sounding frustrated. “It’s a magical hospital, and you’re a muggle.”

“So?” Dean challenged. “I know all about it, I’m a  _ hunter _ , Harry.”

“You’re also not married.” Harry pointed out. “Even if they  _ would _ let you in, and trust me, being a hunter is  _ not _ going to endear them to you, they won't let you in to see her.”

“I got IDs that say otherwise.” Dean argued.

“You’re not registered as married to either Ministry, Dean. That’s what they’ll check.”

“Bet Schmendrick’s right there, though, huh?” Dean said, testily. 

“No, she’s in the DAU Spell Damage unit.” Harry shared. “No visitors except her next of kin.”

“Her parents are in Australia, and don’t have anything to do with her!”

“Which is why  _ I’m _ her next of kin.” Harry said, calmly. “Look, I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on. I just thought you needed to know.”

“You're damn straight I needed to know!” Dean practically roared into the phone. 

“I’ll call you as soon as there’s any change.” The call clicked.

“Harry!” Dean shouted. “You better not have hung up on me!”

“I think he hung up on you.” Sam said, giving him that strange look again. “Who’s Harry, and who’s in hospital?”

Dean really hadn’t been watching his words. He closed the phone with a snap, running his hand through his hair, which was already ruffled from everything with the plane demon. “Sometimes, when I’m not hunting with Dad or by myself, I work with this other hunter, Hermione. Harry is her foster brother, he called her back to London for help with a case of his. Apparently, though, the thing they were hunting got the drop on her, and she’s in ICU. Family only.”

Sam looked at him strangely for a moment. “And we’re looking for Dad.”

“And we’re looking for Dad.” Dean agreed. “But first, we have to let Jerry know what happened.”

This was why hunters didn’t get happy endings, white picket fences, and apple pie. He had to remember that. “It’s just a risk of the job.”


End file.
